


anticipation

by skaralding



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F, Fingerfucking, Imagination, Light BDSM, Mutual Masturbation, Nonnies Made Me Do It, Ogling, Semi-Public Sex, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:28:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23667634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skaralding/pseuds/skaralding
Summary: Esme would never, ever admit out loud that she enjoyed the furtive tug of war between her and Karyn, the way she resisted the draw of Karyn’s leering gaze only to be plundered anyway.She’d never give it up.
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Female Character
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15





	anticipation

**Author's Note:**

> First half originally [posted on fail_fandomanon](https://fail-fandomanon.dreamwidth.org/312977.html?thread=1788099985#cmt1788099985) as a response to "100 words of your favorite suffering". I added the second half today because gdi, I wanted to know what Karyn _did_ and I never got around to filling that in until now.
> 
> 'Suffering' here was originally reluctance; I think that still works. Enjoy~
> 
>  _Edited 4/16/20_ to remove a couple dubious consent tags I realized didn't quite fit.

Somehow, it always ended up like this. Karyn knew how little Esme liked to be touched in public; she knew, and so she only looked instead, her dark eyes skimming Esme’s sweating, mostly properly clothed body in a way that never failed to make Esme blush.

“Good bout?” Esme found herself asking, just to break up the moment a bit. Just because silence under that gaze was too much.

“Hm,” was the low answer. “Good enough.”

It should have helped. Karyn was careful, too, to let nothing improper into her tone in public. And yet, as Esme switched from towelling off to stripping out of her sweat-soaked things, she still felt a breath away from letting out a stupid moan, even though she wasn’t being touched, being crowded, being pressed against the cool metal of her open locker.

She was wet by now, of course. It never took much around Karyn, but it was always worst after arms practice, after anything physical that left them both loose-limbed and sweating. Esme skinned out of her shirt, her back to Karyn, and couldn’t keep from imagining the look that was now likely scorching her back, lingering on the damp, stained cloth of her breastband.

She heard small rustles behind her, and had to bite her lip to keep from turning round to look, to look her fill of Karyn’s long, lean, body. To let her gaze longer on every exposed inch of Karyn’s smooth brown skin. It didn’t feel fair to ogle Karyn that way when they had established that nothing would come of it in public, and yet…

“Your shoulder okay?” Karyn asked, her tone low and solicitous, and Esme could only grunt an affirmative and try to focus on anything but the thought of how easily Karyn might step close to her, might slide a hard arm around her shoulders and force her to keep still. “I could give you a quick massage, if you need it.”

“No,” Esme said, harshly. “No massage.” She had to change out her breastband. It was damp, the tightly stretched material all but guaranteed to be an irritant if she didn’t switch it out or even just shed it; she’d been horrified, originally, at the thought that women might go about unbound in public at the College, but the relentless informality here had worn on her. That and her laziness, her dislike of wearing a band day in and out; it had taken just two days of being proper to convince herself that the College grounds, while not really her home, were currently close enough to it that the difference was academic.

She hadn’t felt conscious of what it must look like, what her breasts must look like, unbound beneath her usual thin tunic, until Karyn.

“Well, then,” Karyn said, her tone slightly distracted, the way it always was when she was lacing up her tunic in some complicated pattern. “No massage for you, my dear.”

That was the signal that broke Esme’s unwilling hesitation. The breastband went. Her trousers and her breeches followed, quickly, though the smell made her flush, made her skin prickle with anticipation of some brief, sly jest, even though she very well knew Karyn’s nose wasn’t anything like hers. Karyn wouldn’t smell her; the only way Karyn would know her torment was if Karyn walked over and surprised her with an arm about the waist, one arm to keep her still while the other explored between her shaking thighs…

“Hurry up, will you?” Karyn said, her tone just a little cross, and so Esme hurried, though it meant her tunic went on nearly the wrong way around, and her fresh breeches and loose pants took two tries to get into properly. “Finally. Come.”

Sheepish, and struggling not to show it, Esme followed along behind her frowning lover, putting hasty hands to her hair as she did so, to see if the messy bun she always forgot to refresh after training would hold a little longer. They were for dinner now, though she ached for something else; she’d learned her way around just well enough to know that the food hall must be their destination, if they took the right hand path that led out of the changing rooms, and ducked into the corridor that led past empty lesson halls.

She was not expecting Karyn to slow, to drop back to walk beside her. Esme, sensing an impending conversation, slowed as well, only to blink and gasp in surprise when Karyn shouldered her right into a door, a door that opened on a second, forceful shove.

“No—!” She never knew what to do when Karyn was like this, was using all her height and weight against her. “What—what are you—”

Karyn chuckled, her voice low, her breath warm against Esme’s neck. “Touching you,” she said. “We’re alone here, you know. It’s all right.”

They were crushed together against the inside of the door that led to this empty lesson room, an inch away from the corridor, a corridor that would easily become full of people when the dinner bell rung, letting everyone flood it as they hastened to get to the food hall. It was most definitely not all right, and yet Esme found herself spreading her thighs just a little, just enough to give access to her lover’s insistent, groping hand.

“It’s,” she heard herself say, her voice thin and shaky, “it’s almost—it’s almost dinnertime. We can’t do this here.” Still, she did not stop the rough slide of Karyn’s hand into her breeches. Even if she had wanted to, it would have been difficult; Karyn had her pinned, had both her arms pinned above her head. “Karyn, _don’t_.”

Thankfully, Karyn ignored her.

It didn’t take long to come. It was all too much: the smooth slide of Karyn’s thick, calloused finger in and in and out and in; the stinging grip of Karyn’s hand around her wrists; the fact that Esme had already been shamefully wet. She cried out almost immediately, her toes curling, her cunt clenching hard. Her struggles slowed even as her breaths sped up.

“I don’t know why you never ask for it,” Karyn said, lowly. Her voice was unhurried, her breathing only slightly elevated. _She_ didn’t lose control at times like this. “Heavens know how much you want it, and yet…”

At any other time, Esme would have rolled her eyes at that flat, teasing tone of Karyn’s, or would have made a point of sniffing disdainfully if she couldn’t think up an adequate retort. Right now, all she could do was tremble and clench over and over again. Her nipples ached. Clothed as she was, she felt undressed, revealed, her tunic and pants a flimsy, negligible barrier to the heat and solidity of Karyn’s firm strength.

 _Stop,_ she wanted to say. _It’s enough. Any more of this, and you’ll stain more than my breeches._ She said nothing, arching back, shuddering as Karyn’s fingers twisted deep within her. She hadn’t even noticed when one finger had become three.

She did notice when Karyn let go her wrists. “Aid me, will you?” was all her lover said, a little breathlessly, and of course she hurried to comply, though it felt even more shameful. It always did, when Karyn’s merciless focus on her became the usual greed for more, for filthy participation.

This time, Karyn didn’t let Esme turn around. All Karyn would accept was a shakily offered arm, one she first stroked—groped, in a way that forced a low, helpless groan from Esme’s lips—before guiding it appropriately, bringing Esme’s trembling hand to the hairy cunt Karyn had already bared.

That she would do that in passing, while molesting Esme, without Esme’s knowledge…

And she was so different there. Her hair came in curls, as opposed to Esme’s wisps, and her entrance was tighter. Dipping a finger into her liquid heat felt like trespassing.

“Properly, now,” Karyn growled, and Esme couldn’t help but shiver as she forced herself to speed up. Karyn was… longer within, and preferred a smooth, deep stroke that had used to make Esme’s arm ache when she wasn’t accustomed to performing it.

The thought that she _was_ accustomed now, thoroughly accustomed to making such tawdry use of her sword arm, stole Esme’s breath and made her mouth water nearly as much as her cunt. Weep as she’d done during their very first time, she’d loved it then just the same as she did now. It felt fitting to become this sort of sordid tool, nay, object. To be used to Karyn’s satisfaction.

In the end, Karyn did not prevent her from turning around. They kissed, Esme moaning greedily as Karyn finally put a rough hand to her breasts. Saliva dripped down the distorted front of Esme’s tunic, but she was too far gone to make more than distant note of it; it would dry quickly, and would not reek the way their juices were already doing, stirred up by their mutual assault on one another.

Gradually, their fingers slowed. Esme’s former writhing diminished into mere trembles; Karyn’s brand-like grip on her arm loosened enough that she could feel the tingle of blood returning to the place Karyn had held her.

“Enough,” Karyn finally said, in the low, hoarse tone that was everything Esme had so far been striving for. “We’d better hurry, if we wish to get there before the best of the spread runs out.”

Frowning, Esme withdrew her fingers, reaching gingerly into her pocket with her dry hand for one of the clean handkerchiefs she carried against this sort of need. It was on the tip of her tongue to complain that, as always, if Karyn had just _waited_ , they wouldn’t have had this problem, and could indeed have walked off from the dining hall with an armload of bread, cold cuts and soup they could easily reheat once they’d had their fill of each other.

Then, when Esme offered the other clean handkerchief, her gaze politely low, she heard Karyn chuckle in a way that made her shiver. Clenching her jaw, she suppressed the urge to turn away to hide her sudden flush, choosing instead to speak up as coolly as she could. “Did you not just say to hurry up?”

“I did,” Karyn said, easily. Too easily; Esme could not look at her now, though that had been the plan. Karyn never spoke like that without a certain, forthright cast to her gaze, one that never failed to make Esme feel damnably weak. “I _am_ sorry, you know.”

“Hmph.”

“I really should have better mastery of myself.”

Oh, now that was unfair, saying that so very seriously. Esme could shrug off a great deal of flirting of the ordinary, florid kind; her upbringing asked no less of her. But Karyn had a way of saying such things so they sounded like the raw, unshakeable truth. And of course she never said _everything_ , only left it up to Esme’s overactive imagination so that her wilful words occupied far more territory in Esme’s mind than they should by any right.

“Are you cross with me?” That was the follow-up stab, said softly, accompanied with a brief, careful brush of Karyn’s fingertips against the back of Esme’s hand. “Tell me?”

“What would I gain from being cross?” was the only thing Esme could think to say, her tone heated, and very obviously annoyed enough to answer Karyn’s sneaking little question. “Don’t—don’t you dare answer that.”

But Karyn was already grinning, a sunny, evil thing that crinkled her dark eyes at the corners, and made Esme think of all the things she could do with that wicked mouth. “All right,” she said, her tone proud as anything. “I’ll not tease you any more.” _For now,_ was the unsaid implication, one that Esme gloried in as well as dreaded.

Sometimes, Esme dearly wished she’d chosen to continue ignoring the other woman’s bald looks and sly propositions, the way she’d struggled to do before anything between them had begun. But she only ever wished it for a moment, for just long enough to remember the first things they had done together and then succumb to a guilty flush.

She’d never, ever admit out loud that she enjoyed the furtive tug of war between her and Karyn, the way she resisted the draw of Karyn’s leering gaze only to be plundered anyway.

She’d never admit it. She’d never give it up.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know how you found it ;D ;D ;D


End file.
